


how easy you are to need

by delimeful



Category: Sanders Sides (Web Series)
Genre: Alternate Universe - Werewolf, Angst with a Happy Ending, Bears, Codependency, Gen, Hurt/Comfort, Mild Blood, Minor Violence, Misunderstandings, Pack Family, Self-Hatred, Suicidal Thoughts, the animal kind not the gay kind
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2019-09-13
Updated: 2019-11-03
Packaged: 2020-10-17 13:23:06
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: Graphic Depictions Of Violence
Chapters: 4
Words: 8,725
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/20621726
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/delimeful/pseuds/delimeful
Summary: A lone werewolf finds three humans settling into the abandoned cabin on his territory, and somehow manages to get attached.





	1. Winter

When the humans showed up, it was winter. 

It took Virgil a shamefully long amount of time to realize, wondering about the odd scent on the breeze until he passed the abandoned house on the edge of his territory. It was a small but well-built cabin, one that he’d attempted to shelter in during past winters, before realizing that it was laced with supernatural deterrents. He’d dismissed it as an old hunter hideout, seeing as it hadn’t been touched in years.

Naturally, it was now lit from within, a wisp of grey smoke curling from the chimney. Virgil moaned lowly, already tired of the situation. Winters were always hard, and this one especially so. He could already envision any number of possible catastrophes that could result from confronting the trespassers in his weakened and vaguely malnourished state. 

He turned away, stalking back into the woods. It wasn’t worth the trouble. 

A week later, he found himself stumbling into the clearing, half-dead with cold. 

It hadn’t been planned. He’d been struggling to keep moving, keep the blood pumping through him, knowing that stopping in such a heavy storm meant he would never get back up. He’d underestimated the season, and now he was paying the price. 

The lights of the cabin caught his eye, a distant warmth, and he wandered towards it with a limping gait. Getting seen by humans might just mean a more merciful death, at this point. He looked like a normal wolf, if a bit oversized, so they probably wouldn’t be able to tell he was a shifter, right?

He paused at the edge of the halo of light cast out by the window, nervous, but he could already feel the warmth emanating from the house. He slunk closer, circling the house until he found the vent opening to the crawl space. Hunters were paranoid; always keeping unexpected escape routes built into their hideouts. 

He braced himself, and then shifted with low cracks of bone and flesh. This close to the full moon, it ached like sore muscles, but not as bad as the cold stung at his now human body. Gritting his teeth, he quickly dug his nails into the wood surrounding the metal grate and tore it out, ignoring the splinters he now surely had. Task done, he shifted back as quick as he could and waited for an agonizing moment, listening for any signs that he’d been heard. 

Nothing. 

Satisfied, Virgil belly-crawled into the space under the house, just barely managing to fit at his height. From there, it was just a matter of finding the warmest spot and recovering for a few hours. Thankfully, the floorspace extended to where the fireplace crackled merrily. 

Unfortunately, the occupants of the house were seated in the same room, and his acute hearing in this form meant that he could hear their conversations loud and clear. He sighed lowly, and settled in, struggling to ignore their chatter.

And chatter they did. 

Over the course of the next few hours, he managed to discern each human’s name and identify which one was talking based on dialogue alone. 

There were three of them, unless they had a fourth, mute roommate who they never acknowledged. 

The first, and loudest, was Roman. He spoke arrogantly, full of bravado and thrilling tales of derring-do, like a pampered prince on a white horse. Virgil couldn’t help but huff occasionally, certain that certain aspects were exaggerated, but his nicknames for the others were a riot. Since the others seemed less keen on returning fire, Virgil vowed to mentally dub him Princey. 

The second was Patton. He was the friendly type, fondness for the other two clear in his voice every time he made a bad joke at them. The gaps in the stories were always filled by his various noises of reaction, gasping and humming at all the right parts. He even occasionally commented on the cruelty or kindness of a certain act, regardless if the hero or villain was the one committing it. 

The third, and by comparison the quietest, was Logan. He kept his voice so measured that sometimes Virgil had to strain to hear it. And he did, because Logan’s commentary was always either rather informative or brutally popping Princey’s bubble. His words were often blunt, but the way he delivered them made Virgil think that he didn’t really intend to be rude. He was just honest. 

They must have known each other for a long time, because there was little abrasion in the way they poked fun or chimed in to stories they had been present for. It was a sort of easy camaraderie, the kind that Virgil’d never had as a literal lone wolf. He wondered absently if humans had packs. Maybe he would have had one if he hadn’t been turned. 

Somewhat melancholy, he curled up and tucked his head against his paws, dozing to the sound of the idle conversation above him. 

When he woke, the storm had finally settled into a light drift of snow, and the house above him was quiet and still, the heat faded. 

He lay there for a long moment with chill in his bones, considering breaking into the house and getting rid of the intruders while they lay vulnerable. There were only three, and even in his current state, the odds were in his favor. He should just be done with it. Humans ended up a threat, always. 

Instead, he crawled out and made his way silently back into the woods to hunt. It was too troublesome to kill them. That was all. 

Being a lone wolf suited him, he reflected as he returned to the cabin the next night, because if he had packmates they would surely tease him relentlessly for being so soft. 

Still, the sounds of the humans above and the warmth of their hearth made sleeping easier than it’d been in ages, and with a clear head, hunting became easier. He figured that alone was enough reason to allow them to remain here, even if only for the season. It didn’t have anything to do with the fondness they spoke to each other with or the lack of harshness he’d come to expect from humans. Nothing at all. 

After all, he knew that even if they were kind to each other, such a courtesy wouldn’t be extended to him. He was familiar with the routine. The moment one of them spotted him, the tenuous peace would shatter and they’d be after him, vicious and cunning as humans always were. It’d been that way back when he was a pup, too small to be a threat, and he wasn’t fool enough to think things would change when he was a full-grown wolf. 

That didn’t mean he couldn’t take advantage of their presence until then, though, and he found that with each day, he learned more about the trio. 

Patton loved to bake but would often get distracted if drawn into conversation by one of the others, going by the burnt smell he woke up to on more than one occasion. Roman sometimes stayed up later than the others, unusually quiet apart from the constant, frantic scratching of pen on paper. Logan… 

Well, Logan seemed to love the stars, Virgil thought as he returned one evening to find the cabin’s lights off and the three of them laying down on a blanket under the sky. They were silhouettes in the dark, and he didn’t dare get close enough to see them properly, but he could hear Logan’s voice, reciting tales of his own for once as he pointed out ‘constellations’. 

He was sorely tempted to lay down at the edge of the woods, fall asleep to the sounds he had been listening to for weeks now, but… these humans were so exposed, out of their protected house, flat on their backs. Virgil couldn’t even tell if they had weapons with them. In the middle of monster territory, it was a dangerous move. 

It was just for the warmth, he told himself as he began patrolling the area around the house, scaring off anything that came in range and leaving furrows in the trees to warn that this space was his. The humans didn’t have anything to do with it. He held on to this assertion even when the snow began to melt, when he followed Roman from a distance when he went out to hunt. When he stood guard over Patton as he began to till the earth for a garden. When he sat under the stars with Logan and made sure nothing disturbed him. 

The humans didn’t affect him at all, until he found himself the only thing between them and the overgrown, magic-sick grizzly outside their home. 

“Is that a wolf?” Roman cried out behind him, as he snapped and snarled at the bear, hackles raised. It was stupid to try and take it down without a pack, especially with the crystals growing from its back and the wild, rabid look in its eyes. Normally, he’d be running to find the highest ground until it got tired and left, especially so close to the new moon, but- 

Behind him, Patton whimpered, and he felt another surge of anger at the sound. His scream had been the only thing that called him here in the first place, and he’d still been too late to keep the grizzly from taking a swipe at the human’s leg before he rammed right into it. 

He chanced a look over his shoulder, seeing Logan pressing cloth to the injury with one hand and winding Patton’s arm around his shoulders with the other. Roman had an enchanted blade out, alarm writ all over his face, and he wavered as though he wasn’t sure who was the bigger danger. At least he hadn’t figured out Virgil was a shifter yet.

The momentary lapse cost him, and he took a swing from one of those huge paws head on. Spots dotted his vision as he was knocked to the side, and he forced himself back to his feet, ignoring the way something seemed to have snapped on his right side. The bear was ignoring him now, small beady eyes back on the three humans, and Virgil felt an unprecedented protectiveness flare up in him. 

A growl building in his chest, he dove for the bear’s neck, latching on and tearing at its chest with his hind legs. It rose up onto two legs, baying and clawing, but Virgil continued to tear at its throat until a particularly harsh shake threw him off. He could taste blood in his mouth but rolled right back up, adrenaline muting all his pain, and let out an unearthly howl as he moved between the bear and the humans once more. 

The grizzly hadn’t come away without damage either, though, and its breaths came out rasping and wet. It seemed to suddenly decide the reward wasn’t worth the risk, as it gave one last growl before turning and going in search of easier things to kill. In Virgil’s forest.

_Shit,_ Virgil thought, his form trembling with exhaustion, _I should go deal with that. _

He managed a few shaking steps forward before collapsing, and as if to make everything perfectly worse, his wolf form slipped away like water through his fingers. He struggled to push himself back up, his mind screaming that he was going to be killed, but everything was so heavy and unresponsive. 

A glint of light caught his eye, and he turned his head slightly to see Roman a few paces away, sword still in hand. A throaty moan left him, more animal than human, and he let his head drop, craning his neck to look out at the forest. If he was going to be killed, he didn’t want to be looking at the damn human who did it. 

A footstep crunched behind him, and then the last of his adrenaline drained away and the pain hit, dragging him into blissful unconsciousness.


	2. Spring

Virgil woke up surrounded by warmth and the smell of sugar. 

It was nice for the few moments it took him to realize where he was and what had happened to get him there. He peeled his eyes open, ignoring the way his whole face felt like a bruise, and found himself… in a small living room? Propped up by a bunch of pillows and nearly smothered in blankets?

His gaze darted around, uncomprehending. He’d expected a cell, at best. Really, he hadn’t expected to wake up at all. What possible reason could these people have for keeping a shifter around? If they felt bad killing him for whatever reason, they should have just left him to bleed out and return to the soil. That was the terrifying and relentless way nature worked.

(Not that he’d cared about the life cycle when he’d seen Patton injured.)

A low sigh made him freeze, and he slowly turned his head to see that there was, in fact, a human in the room. 

Patton was curled up in a cozy armchair, a worn storybook sliding off his lap, and one leg tucked up against him. The other was laid straight out on a footrest, the pant leg rolled up and the skin bandaged thoroughly. Virgil stared. 

Were these humans _insane_? Leaving one of their injured in the same room as a strange wolf-

He abruptly realized which form he was in, looking down at his pale flesh, and all the pieces clicked into place. With a sword like his, Roman was a hunter, and there was only one reason hunters kept monsters alive, as he knew personally. His breath quickened, head becoming foggy with panic. 

He had to get out of here. 

As though summoned by the rebellious thought, he heard light footsteps from down the hall. He tore out of the blankets, scrambling to his feet and noting with mild hysteria that he was wearing soft, button-up pajamas. Patton blinked blearily, looking up at him with confusion.

“What-” The footsteps sped up at the noise, and Virgil grabbed Patton’s arm, yanking him out of the chair and in front of him as another human appeared in the hall’s threshold. Roman, surprisingly with his sword sheathed. He wouldn’t need it yet, though, would he? 

Patton stumbled on his weak leg, and Virgil kept his face stone cold as he shifted his leg to subtly support the man’s weight. “Wha- huh?” Patton asked, and Virgil wrapped an arm loosely around his throat, claws hovering above the skin in lieu of an answer. 

“Don’t take another step,” Virgil instructed, trying to keep the shake from his voice as he watched Roman take in the situation, “or I’ll bite him.” 

The human’s face darkened instantly, as he expected. Humans never took well to their own being turned. “Let Pat go.”

Virgil barked out a sharp laugh, eyes wild. “Not a chance.” 

Patton shifted awkwardly on his foot. “Um, kiddo? You don’t have to-” 

“Stop. Talking.” Virgil cut him off, not wanting to hear the fear, disgust, faux-sympathy in his voice. He couldn’t afford to let himself soften. “I’m going to move to the door, and you’re coming with. O- Or else.”

“I, um… I can’t walk on this leg. Sorry, kiddo.” Patton apologized sheepishly, as though he wasn’t being held hostage. Shit. How was he supposed to keep him from injuring his leg further without giving away that he was supporting him?

Virgil froze up for a moment too long, and then Roman took a step forward, and he knew his bluff had failed. 

“Look, it’s okay, just-” Roman started, advancing, and was cut off by the click of the door handle as Logan stood in the doorway, firewood in his arms. A way out.

Virgil didn’t waste a second, shoving Patton at Roman(who naturally dove to catch him) before charging at Logan head-on. The man blinked, startled, and then sputtered as Virgil knocked all the wood out of his arms before ducking around him and out the door. 

There was shouting behind him, but he was already running, ignoring the burn of his wounds until they went numb. Unfortunately, numbness didn’t make for good sprinting. It felt like barely no time at all before he went sprawling, hitting the ground and his vision briefly blacking out. 

Once he reawoke, everything seemed to hurt ten times worse, and it had begun to rain. He forced himself up on hands and knees, crawling to the shelter of the nearest thick tree trunk. 

He longed for the warmth and comfort of his wolf form, but he knew better than to shift, not when he hadn’t gotten far enough to truly be safe. Not when they could come to reclaim him at any moment. They could track him down, kill him, but he wouldn’t give them what they wanted. 

Time passed, his vision occasionally darkening, and then he blinked, and another human stood a few paces away. He squinted, wondering which one of them was sent to finish him off. 

“Salutations.” Logan said, crouching to be eye level with him. Virgil didn’t speak. “You’re going to bleed out if you don’t shift back or get those wounds treated.” 

That, at least, got a hoarse chuckle out of him. _Nice try, buddy._

Logan stared at him expectantly for a moment longer, and then sighed. “I am going to pick you up, and walk back to the house. I’m aware that you panicked and would like to reassure you that we don’t mean you any harm. Quite the opposite, really.” 

Virgil didn’t believe it for a second, and when Logan leaned forwards, he bared his teeth. To his surprise, the human simply ignored the threat, wrapping his arms around his shoulders and the underside of his knees and lifting him in one motion. He twitched, and Logan stopped moving. 

“I do not want to drop you. Please don’t move, we’ll be back at the cabin shortly.” 

Virgil didn’t respond, too busy staring at Logan’s neck, inches away. The human started moving again, as though he wasn’t holding a monster right next to the most vulnerable point of his body. As though Virgil couldn’t lunge forward and tear out his trachea as easy as he’d attacked that bear. 

And he was right, wasn’t he? Because Virgil couldn’t. He should, he really should, even if it took harnessing the spite and fear building within him, as a last act of defiance. Even if just to hurt them the way they were going to hurt him, to vent how unfair it was that he saved them and ended up captured, he should close the gap between them and ruin Logan’s life the way his had been ruined. 

But he wouldn’t. Even imagining the act made everything in him recoil, because despite everything, he still wanted his humans to be alive and happy and together. He wanted Logan to see the stars and Patton to see his garden’s first harvest and Roman to finally be satisfied with the composition of his songs. He wanted them safe, even if it meant getting rid of a threat like him.

As Logan approached the clearing, he wondered absently if this was what having a pack felt like. It was certainly a bittersweet feeling. 

Patton and Roman were out on the porch, the former sat on the edge of the stairs and the latter wearing a groove into the wood with his pacing. Virgil could see his hand resting on his sword hilt, white-knuckled, and felt an astonishing lack of fear. They both looked up as Logan approached, eyes zeroing in on Virgil. 

“Logan!”

“Specs! Is he- ?” 

“He’s conscious, but many of his wounds are reopened. We’ll need the first aid kit again- ” 

Logan’s voice slipped away along with Virgil’s grasp on consciousness, and he was out again. 

When he woke for the second time in the cabin, Roman was there. 

He was once again laid out on the couch, with mounds of knit blankets tucked around him. It was startling, how different these humans treated him compared to the last hunter. Maybe they figured they’d get more flies with honey. He shifted, and Roman’s head turned at the movement, looking down at him with a surprisingly neutral expression. 

He was sat on a throne-like chair next to the couch, and his sword was laid across his legs. He followed Virgil’s gaze down to it. 

“Don’t worry, this is for Patton, not you.” He told him, lips turned up at the edges, and Virgil snapped out of his groggy state as though he’d been hit. Patton? Why would- Oh. Oh no. 

He leaned forwards, trying to convey the honesty of his next words. 

“I- I didn’t bite him. He’s not turned.” _Please don’t kill him._

It was Roman’s turn to reel back, eyebrows raised. “No, no! I- I know, it was… It was just a joke. Patton has been trying to hover over you all day, and he needs to be off his feet to recover. He’s not- I wouldn’t-” He sighed, holding up a rag that Virgil hadn’t noticed in his other hand. “I’m just cleaning the blade. On my honor.” 

Virgil settled back into the couch, injuries stinging. “Oh.” There was a long pause, in which Virgil steadfastly didn’t make eye contact. 

“I don’t know how much you remember, but you’ve been sleeping for around three days, not counting your… brief escapade.” Roman said. “How are you feeling?” 

Virgil stared at him for a long moment. Was he serious? “… Bad.”

Roman’s face fell, but anything he was going to say was cut off by Logan entering from the hall, holding a tray of empty dishes. He paused, and then nodded at the two of them. 

“Good to see you awake.” He said, passing them by to enter what Virgil assumed was a kitchen. “Give me one moment and I will check your injuries. And Roman, please stop indulging in your self-soothing mechanisms. You’re making our guest uneasy.” 

Roman grumbled but finished wiping down the blade and sheathed it as light clinking sounded from the kitchen. Logan returned a moment later, small kit in hand. Virgil eyed it warily, already dreading what he knew was to come. 

One checkup later, he was left fairly confused. Logan packed the unused bandages and antiseptic back into the small box, saying something about Patton wanting to visit, apparently satisfied with just… tending to Virgil’s wounds. He hadn’t taken anything from him, not blood or hair or teeth. There was no way Logan, who had mentioned complex magical theory several times in the past, didn’t know about the powerful properties of shifter’s bodies. He exhaled heavily, some of the stress leaving him. 

They were just in it for the biggest prize then. That was good, better than he’d expected from humans. It meant he had time. It was just after the new moon, so… he had some time before the full moon hit and he was forced to transform.

They’d try to get him to transform earlier, he was sure, since they were probably as unhappy about a shifter in their house as he was unhappy to be captured. Still, he was nothing if not stubborn enough to resist whatever they threw at him.

If they wanted his pelt, they were going to have to wait him out.


	3. Summer

For the next few days, Virgil drifted in and out of consciousness. 

His body needed rest badly, especially when it was so injured, but fear wouldn’t let him forget where he was, keeping an iron grip on his mind. He was restless, waking periodically to check his surroundings, make sure they hadn’t grown tired of his stubbornness enough to cage him yet. 

For the first day, he only saw Roman and Logan for brief spurts of time, but upon the next morning, Patton had returned to his spot on the plush armchair with no explanation. It was as though he had never been held hostage at all, and whenever he caught Virgil’s gaze on him- and he somehow always caught him- he would offer the shifter a bright smile, one he could see no lie in. 

He never responded, but Patton didn’t seem to take offense. He generally didn’t, Virgil recalled from his nights under the floorboards, but he certainly hadn’t thought the courtesy of forgiveness would be extended to _him._

That was the strangest part, the casual acceptance, and the most difficult to figure out. The three of them would eat their meals in the living space, settled onto the floor or the chairs around the couch, conversation as easy as if there wasn’t a monster laid out three feet away from them. He was their fourth mute roommate, watching them with narrowed eyes when they weren’t looking and ignoring all subtle and not-so-subtle attempts to draw him into conversation. 

It was hard. He’d spent ages wondering what it would be like to be up there with them, human and safe and pack. It was just an impossible dream, but sitting here, in the room with them, made something in him yearn to reach out, let himself be tricked into false comforts. He struggled to repress it, because, well. If he was going to die, he might as well take advantage of their pitying kindness, right?

Still, he managed. A kernel of bitterness was shored up in his throat, a reminder of what was to come, a reminder that this was as cruel a death as any. Maybe crueler than letting him die from his wounds. At least that would have been quick and easy. He was pretty sure the humans weren’t being intentionally cruel. They couldn’t have known how attached he’d gotten, how badly it would hurt to be faced with their larger-than-life presence directly and still know how the story would end. Still know that they were trying to catch him off guard, make him shift so they could kill him and take his pelt.

No matter how many times he told himself that it was for the best, that he understood why they were doing it, that he was a risk to their safety, that kernel of bitterness remained lodged there, a sound like the smallest voice wishing things were different. It wasn’t fair, but neither was life. So it went. 

With that dreary mindset driving him deeper into hopelessness, it was no wonder he’d caved when he did.

It was Patton that ultimately got him, which he could have predicted. He woke up as soon as his mind registered something moving around him, and instinctively snarled, flashing his teeth (still considerably sharp in human form) and jolting upright to take in his surroundings. 

The soft human was frozen in surprise, the edges of a knitted blanket in his hands. It had already been on his lap when he started drifting off earlier in the night, so it seemed Patton had simply been trying to pull it up to cover more of him. Virgil recoiled back into himself immediately, scanning the dark room for other humans with regret swelling in his throat. Stupid, _stupid_, he knew better than to snap at one of them, he was going to get himself tortured-

“I’m so sorry!” Patton whispered, mindful of the quiet atmosphere around them. Virgil stopped short, confused, and watched as the human flapped his hands around like errant moths, always stopping short of touching him. “I didn’t mean to wake you up, I should have thought before I- Oh gee, I’m sorry, kiddo.” 

“What?” Virgil said hoarsely, too-loud in the stillness of the night. And then, before his mind could catch up- “Why aren’t you scared of me?”

Patton initially looked delighted at his voice, but then he registered the words and his hands dropped slightly, an uncertain look crossing his face. “Afraid of you? Kiddo-”

“I’m not a child.” Virgil snapped, voice low but distinctly laced with a defensive growl. “I threatened your life a couple of days ago. You shouldn’t be… treating me like this.” Like a houseguest, like someone he cared about. 

“Mr. Wolf.” Patton said seriously. “You_ saved_ my life just a few days ago, don’t you remember? If it weren’t for you, I’d have come away with much worse than a scratch. It wouldn’t be _beary_ nice of me to treat you badly, now would it?” 

Virgil blinked, thrown. “Was- was that a pun?”

Patton grinned, all soft edges and rounded teeth, and his hands flitted over to Virgil’s side. The shifter tensed, but all that happened was those hands tucking the blanket back against him gently and retreating as swift as they came. The human gave him a thumbs up, and when he simply stared back, bewildered, Patton whispered a ‘good night’ before vanishing from the room as well. 

The complete lack of fear from the man was astounding. First Logan, now Patton as well? Was he losing his edge or something? Did they somehow not realize that he was a dangerous monster?

He was left alone with his racing thoughts, and by the time morning light broke through the window, he believed he had figured it out. 

The kindness, the care, the lack of blood or skin harvesting- it wasn’t a trick to lower his guard. It was a form of gratitude for saving one of their small pack. The humans couldn’t afford to let him live, but they didn’t want to leave such a life debt unpaid, either. Making his last few weeks comfortable was as close to a compromise as they could manage. 

The bitter kernel softened slightly, the ache in his chest soothed by the hope that he’d get a taste of real pack living after all. It wouldn’t all be fake. He could let himself accept this. 

His concession felt worth it when he got to see Roman’s face, dumbstruck as he finally began to shoot back the nicknames he’d been building a repertoire of all this time. Patton didn’t mention their late night encounter, but he did slip him a sugar cookie. It was sweet and soft in his mouth.

They took his sudden willingness to speak to them in stride, and before long they were laying it on thick, asking his thoughts and opinions on all sorts of things. He was still quiet most of the time, fatigue draining his energy, but they didn’t seem to mind. There was a space for him in their conversations, one he hadn’t noticed before.

Naturally, it was in one of these comfortable conversations that he slipped up. 

It was a conversation about the stars, one where they made a game of remembering which hero went to each tale. Logan was banned, of course, from doing anything but offering obscure hints, since he was the one who told the stories in the first place.

Roman and Patton went back and forth, racing to remember this or that name, until Logan described a specific myth that had them both stumped. They were bringing up and discarding all sorts of options, and Virgil felt a stirring of familiarity, the tip of his tongue poking out of his mouth as he focused on just recalling… 

“Andromeda.” Virgil muttered to himself, pleased that he’d managed to remember the name of one of his favorite constellations. 

“That’s correct.” Logan said, and he looked up, startled to find the three humans looking at him. “I didn’t know you pursued knowledge about the stars.”

“Dark and Gloomy, you could have been playing properly this whole time?” Roman cried, aghast.

“I don’t- it was just a coincidence. I don’t know anything about stars.” Virgil hurried to correct them, and then followed it up with, “I just overheard Logan mention it. Coincidence.” 

The humans all went still for a moment, like a hunter spotting prey, and Virgil felt the first stirrings of panic in his chest as Logan adjusted his glasses. “Falsehood. I have not had time to regale anyone with the mythology behind the Greek constellations since the bear attack. I assume you heard me outdoors at some point prior to that, then?”

Virgil gave his guilt away by stiffening up, teeth clenching and adrenaline coursing through him, but his racing thoughts were promptly interrupted by Logan turning his head to Roman, smug. “Pay up.” 

Roman groaned loudly, and Virgil snapped his head to the side to watch as he forked over a handful of cash. “Huh?” 

“Sorry, Mr. Wolf.” Patton said, sheepish as he passed over his own currency. “We’ve sort of been maybe trying to figure you out a little, and Logan put his money on you hanging around us for a while before the bear incident…” 

That… hadn’t been what he’d expected. “What… What did Roman bet on?” 

“I completely reasonably guessed that you were the bear’s destined rival, and you were so sulky for the first few days because you desperately wanted to get back to your passionate battle of broken bonds!” Roman defended with wide gestures for emphasis. 

“I’d never seen that bear before in my life.” A startled laugh escaped him without his input, and Roman flushed pink. “Hey!” 

Virgil turned to Patton, raising an eyebrow in silent question.

“My guardian angel!” Patton informed him brightly, then paused. “Or, guardian wolf, I guess? Either way, the point is you were heaven-sent in my time of need!” 

“Uh… not likely.” Now Virgil was the one blushing, and Roman snorted with laughter at his expense. Logan stood, drawing attention to himself. 

“My theory was based on significant circumstantial evidence, including the markings you left near our cabin, the familiarity you have shown with us and our… peculiarities, as well as Patton and Roman’s feelings of being watched.” 

Virgil winced at that last one. Guess he wasn’t as subtle as he’d thought. Roman complained about ‘not sharing vital evidence with the rest of the class’ and Logan steadfastly ignored him.

“Whatever your reasoning,” Logan continued, “I wish to thank you properly for saving Patton, and helping us. You didn’t have to and it came at… a great cost to you.”

The other two humans quieted, looking to him with their strange expressions. Pity? Gratitude? Expectation? He couldn’t make it out, especially not as flustered as he was at that moment. What was he supposed to say to a heartfelt thank-you like that? ‘Totally, no problem’? Of course it had been a problem, Patton could have _died_ and also now he was stuck here till he was killed. The silence was dragging on too long, shit, just _say something_\- 

“Yeah… sure.” He finally choked out, eyes darting anywhere but their faces. 

They shared small smiles with each other, returning to their game without mocking him or being irritated with his inability to behave normally. He felt a swell of that heart-squeezing affection again, and before he could talk himself out of it, he spoke.

“Virgil.” 

They all looked over, and Roman spoke first, a little confused. “I’m pretty sure this one is Gemini, J.Delightful.”

“No- I’m Virgil.” He averted his gaze as Patton’s eyes grew round as saucers. “I know all your names, so it only seems fair…” 

“It’s lovely to finally meet you, Virgil.” Logan said, and the other two took the opportunity to add their own greetings, trying his name out on their tongues with glee.

It was the first time he’d ever shared his name with a human. 

Somehow, he couldn’t find it in himself to regret it.


	4. Fall

The humans began to get antsy as it grew closer and closer to the full moon. 

Virgil couldn’t see the night sky from the living room, so he wasn’t sure exactly how round the moon was, but he was a werewolf and his body knew what his mind didn’t. He spent more time curled up in the heavier blankets, trying to ignore the bone-deep ache that radiated through him, increasing with every day that he didn’t shift. 

Still, he stubbornly held onto his human form, not wanting to relinquish the easy camaraderie and relaxing days he had with his humans. Even if they were terrible at hiding their weird behavior from him. His hearing was enhanced even in human form, so there was no way he could miss the muttered arguments Logan and Roman would have in the kitchen, though they spoke in vague enough terms that he often felt completely lost regardless. 

He knew he was the source of their anxieties, though, just from the way they looked at him when they thought he wasn’t paying attention, the snatches of whispered conversations with his name in them, the occasional hesitance Logan displayed while checking on his wounds. He was healing fast under their care, and wondered if maybe they worried he was going to fight back when the time came.

The thought was ridiculous. Hadn’t they already realized that Virgil was hopelessly attached? 

Still, now that he was well enough to walk around without tearing any stitches, he spent a lot of time wandering after one of the three as they went about their daily tasks, a blanket draped over his shoulders to fight off the phantom chills he got from being without a proper pelt. They took to having a shadow well, for the most part. Patton would ask him for help planting the spring tulips and teach him how to carefully handle the sprouts, Logan would steadfastly shoot down any of Virgil’s attempts to help with household chores, and Roman… 

Well, any time Virgil followed Roman outside, the dramatic human suddenly found something else indoors that urgently needed doing. He also spent a lot of time clutching at the empty scabbard at his hip, so it didn’t take long for Virgil to connect the dots. 

“You can practice with that thing, y’know.” He eventually said, startling Roman from his longing windowgazing.

“Huh?” Roman managed, intelligently. Virgil snorted at him. 

“Your sword? You haven’t touched it since my first few days here.” It had been unsettling at the beginning, to be honest. He’d never known a hunter to part with a weapon willingly, especially not around a monster. 

Roman was taken aback for a moment. “Well, it just seemed to make you upset- didn’t it? It’s fine, my skills are as sharp as ever.” He flashed an arrogant smile.

He hadn’t wanted Virgil to feel threatened during these comfortable weeks, since his humans were ridiculous and kind in the strangest ways, and now he probably didn’t want to remind Virgil about how these weeks would inevitably end.

“Hey.” Virgil said, drawing Roman’s attention back. “It’s fine. I know I don’t have anything to fear from that blade.” _Certainly not in this form._

Roman blinked at him, stunned, and then he smiled again- this one real and soft and resplendent- before jumping to his feet and going to grab his sword. Virgil sat down heavily on the couch, a small grin on his own face, and watched him run through stances and drills for the rest of the afternoon. 

The next time he saw that sword, it was the evening before the full moon. 

He’d been peripherally aware of the growing tension between his humans, but as the week progressed, he couldn’t drag his attention away from the pain eating at his bones long enough to care. He’d stopped venturing outside, instead staying huddled on the couch and sleeping through most of the day, the way he had back when he’d been too injured to stand. Patton spent some days with him, and others drawn away to argue with the other two. 

It was frankly a miracle that Roman stepping into the room managed to catch his attention at all, with how terrible he felt. His gaze flickered between Roman’s tense expression and the sword at his side, and he realized that despite his best efforts, his time was probably up. “Roman?” He asked anyways, voice rough with sleep. 

“Hey, Virge.” He said, and sat down on the edge of the couch in lieu of answering Virgil’s unspoken question. They sat in silence for a moment, and then a moment later, heavy footsteps heralded Patton’s arrival. He was holding the broom he used to sweep the porch menacingly, and his glare made Virgil shrink despite it being directed solely at Roman. 

“I thought we agreed we would all talk to Virgil about this together!” He said in his ‘I’m-disappointed-in-you’ voice. Roman held his hands up in defense.

“I’m just sitting here! I wasn’t going to say anything until you guys got back! Promise!” He insisted, leaving Virgil to look between the two of them with mild confusion and the beginnings of worry.

“Talk to me about what?” Was something wrong?

They both grew quiet, sharing a loaded glance, and Logan took the opportunity to appear in the hallway, adjusting his glasses with a frown at them both. “We wish to speak to you about the approaching full moon, though I’m sure you’ve heard us bickering over the matter in the past few days.” 

Virgil nodded, feeling his heart begin to pound. That was what they’d been arguing about? 

“Sorry about that, Virgil.” Patton grimaced apologetically, coming closer to rest a hand on Virgil’s shoulder. Virgil shrugged, and Roman shifted on his other side. 

“So! Since we can’t exactly put this off for much longer, what would you prefer, Virgil? Staying inside, here, or outside?” He asked, moving to stand and pace. Virgil looked up at him, processing the offer.

Well, shucks. He was kind of flattered they were dedicated enough to the concept of his comfort to let him get his deathblood all over their house. Unless they had a secret basement to use or something. Either way, he wasn’t going to take them up on the offer. He wanted to see the forest that had been his home for so long before he died. 

“Uh, outside.” He finally responded, and then winced when Patton’s face fell. 

“Are you sure, Virge? It’ll be cold, and dark, and…” 

“Patton.” Logan cut in, not unkindly. “We decided we’d listen to what Virgil wanted, right?” 

His softest human sniffled. “Right.” 

Virgil felt another wave of pain roll through him, and stiffly began untangling himself from the couch to stand. “I think… we should probably do this now.” 

_“Now?_” Roman squeaked at an embarrassingly high pitch. Patton seemed to agree, and even Logan looked reluctant. It was kind of heartwarming. It seemed like maybe they’d gotten a little attached, too. 

Still… “Yeah, now.” Virgil sighed, regretfully. “I don’t think I can hold this for much longer.” 

They couldn’t argue with that, and he lead the way out of the house, stepping down off the porch onto the solid dirt. Regretfully, he shrugged off the blanket around his shoulders and handed it over to a tearful Patton. Roman stepped forwards, fingers tapping out a nervous pattern on the hilt of his sword. 

“Okay, so- what… what do we need to do? Are you… should we be prepared for your wolf form to attack, or-?” 

“Nah.” Virgil shook his head. If he could have found it in himself to attack them to save his own skin, he would have bit Logan all those weeks ago. 

Besides, even if he did successfully run away, the idea of returning to his lonely haunting of the forest, dodging his humans’ attempts to catch him, being alone again- it wasn’t likely he’d survive long there, either. 

He glanced away from the forest, turning to see Roman’s brow furrowed. It was strange, wanting to comfort a hunter instead of being afraid of them. _He_ was strange, bonding to humans. It was no wonder he was going to die. 

“Don’t worry.” He gave Roman his best attempt a wry smile, exhaling nervously. “I get it. I won’t- make things difficult for you. On my honor.” He added, remembering the phrase Roman so often used in his tales. 

“What?” Roman asked, but Virgil had already released his white-knuckled grip on his human form, and fell to all fours as his bones began to crack and shift painfully. He couldn’t help but let out a whine; he’d really held this shift back for way too long.

After a moment, the shift was finished, and the sense of utter wrongness under his skin finally abated. He let himself stay in a heap of wolf for a moment, panting from exertion. 

“V… Virgil?” 

He huffed once, and then got to his feet, shaking to settle his fur. 

“Woah!” Roman jumped back, alarm lining his shoulders, hand back to his sword hilt. 

Understandable. He was a lot bigger in this form, more so than even a normal wolf. He ducked his head slightly, trying to look a bit shorter. The three humans looked at him with varying levels of wariness, Logan and Patton forced back by Roman’s outstretched arms.

“Uh, hey?” Roman said, stepping a little closer. “Dark and Stormy, you in there?” 

Virgil rolled his eyes, giving him a sarcastic look despite himself. Did he really think Virgil had so little self control as to lose himself to his wolf form? He wasn’t some newly-turned.

Roman grinned, shoulders dropping a little, and in the next moment Patton was flinging himself at Virgil. 

“Patton!” Two voices shouted as his arms wrapped around Virgil’s fluffy neck fur. He reared back a little in surprise, and then tapped his nose as gently as possible to his human’s forehead in reprimand. What in the world was Patton thinking, tackling a monster?

“Sorry!” Patton said, drawing back sheepishly. “I just got over-excited…” 

“Well, I suppose that answers the question of whether or not he’s docile.” Logan said dryly, relief in his voice. Roman had gone as far as to draw his sword, looking shaken. At least someone in this group had survival instincts.

Virgil snorted, and then laid down, his heart racing in his throat as though in protest. He’d promised Roman that he’d make things easy. He could at least do that for his strange, confusing humans. He dipped his head at Roman in a mockery of a nod, and then settled between his paws, trusting that it would be quick.

“… Virgil? What are you doing, there, buddy?” 

Or not. He sighed through his nose. Did they really think he hadn’t figured it out by now? He wasn’t an idiot. 

The irritation he felt was almost enough of a distraction to prevent him from trembling as he rolled to the side, letting his underside show and his head roll back to expose his neck. Almost. Everything in him screamed against such a vulnerable move, but he was tired of fighting. 

There was a sharp intake of breath above him, and his ears flicked at the sound of Roman’s voice. “Logan, I… I need you to tell me that he’s not doing what I think he’s doing.” 

“It looks like he’s asking for belly rubs?” Patton chimed in, making Virgil do a full body twitch of embarrassment. Were they making fun of him?

“His body language is much too negative for that to be the reason.” Logan said, proving himself once again the quick-witted one. “He… _appears_ to be waiting for you to…” 

“For me to kill him.” Roman spat as though the words were bitter in his mouth. “He thinks we want to kill him.” 

There was a heartbeat-long pause, and then all three of them were talking over each other in upset voices, upending every one of Virgil’s expectations. He recoiled back into an upright position despite himself, staring at them with a complete lack of comprehension. What did Roman mean, ‘thinks’? Virgil knew what they wanted from him! 

But… what was the point of pretending, at this point? What could their goal possibly be? 

Virgil rose to his feet, pacing back and forth with his ears pinned back against his skull as he tried to block out the clamor. He needed a mouth that could speak human tongue. 

Too panicked to care about the pain, he forced himself back into a human form, ignoring the extra appendages that lingered due to his half-hearted shift. “What are you trying to pull?” 

They quieted at his frantic question, and Logan was the one to regain himself first. “Virgil, we… we don’t want to kill you-”

“What?” Virgil cut him off, bewildered. “Yes, you do.” 

“No, we don’t?” Logan rebutted weakly, looking confused at Virgil’s certainty. “Why would we want to-?”

“I know you know how magecraft works.” Virgil said, narrowing his eyes. “The magical properties of a werewolf pelt are coveted by anyone who knows anything about magic. The potential uses are-” 

“The potential uses of your _skin_?” Logan retorted, as though the very idea was ridiculous. Virgil knew otherwise.

“Yes? Is it so hard to believe I figured that you’d at least get some use out of my corpse? It’d be better-” He bit his tongue on the rest of the sentence. 

“Is it so hard to believe that maybe we didn’t want to kill you at all?” Logan asked, voice icy. “That we aren’t monsters who would kill someone who had saved us?” 

“You’re not monsters!” Virgil said, voice sharp. “I don’t think you… you _want_ to kill me. Not anymore. But I’m an actual monster, and trust me, I know how humans operate. It’s not safe for you to leave me alive, so you won’t.”

Logan stared at him, seemingly stunned into silence, and Virgil nodded, glad to have made him understand. 

Unfortunately, that meant that there was nothing to stop Roman from approaching, sword in hand. Virgil forgot himself and flinched back automatically, ear flattening and eyes closing, and heard a ‘snkt’ noise. Blade sinking into flesh- but why he didn’t feel any pain? 

He opened his eyes to see the sword driven into the hard dirt almost up to its hilt, and Roman grabbed his hands, ignoring the sharp, inhuman claws to look at him earnestly. 

“Listen to me, Virgil. Really listen, okay? We don’t want to kill you. We aren’t like hunters, you- you aren’t _dangerous_ to us just because you’re not human!” He leaned in to bump heads with him, and Virgil was astonished to see that he was near tears. “You’re our friend, you stupid asshole!” 

Virgil blinked at him. “I- what?”

In the next second, he was slammed into a hug at full force by Patton, who was shaking with silent sobs, occasionally getting a word or two of garbled nonsense out. He hesitantly wrapped his arms around the human, noting the smell of baked goods on him a little hysterically.

“Virgil.” Logan crouched next to him, completing the huddle of humans around him. Virgil looked up at him helplessly, Patton still attached to him like a very upset limpet. “It’s late, and you clearly need time to process what we’ve said, and… and vice versa. Please, let’s rest for now.” 

Seeing as he could barely put two thoughts together at the moment, it was a good idea. He nodded, though the thought of forcing his human form for another night was enough to make him wince. 

Logan sagged slightly in relief, and then pulled Roman to his feet and carefully detangled an unwilling Patton from him, soothing him with a few whispered words. When Virgil started to get up, however, Logan motioned him back down. “Shift on the ground, Virge. It will keep you from placing undue stress on your bones as a quadruped.”

“Shift?” Virgil echoed dumbly. 

“Yes, shift.” Logan responded, raising an eyebrow. “I won’t have you spending the night in a form that pains you to maintain, though I hope you’ll explain the mechanics of that to me later. For now, the living room is big enough to hold all of us even with you at your largest.” 

“Blanket fort.” Roman said solemnly, and Patton brightened slightly, still wiping at his face.

An hour later, settled into a nest of pillows and blankets and surrounded by his humans- each one resting a hand on his fur as though afraid he’d somehow vanish- Virgil was drifting off into the first peaceful sleep he’d had in months. Things weren’t fixed- wouldn’t be for a while- but at the moment, he was surrounded by his pack, and warmer than he’d ever felt before.


End file.
